Brother's Keeper
by musewars
Summary: Donald Davenport is - was - a big brother. Big brothers protect. Big brothers clean up messes. Yet this is one mess he isn't sure he can rectify. Pre-show. One-shot.


Donald Davenport is - was - a big brother. With that role came certain responsibilities. Big brothers were the ones to take care of things. Big brothers cleaned up and protected. It just came with the territory, like beating up bullies or giving atomic wedgies. Cleaning up was what he had been doing for years. Maybe that was what drove him here.

It had taken him two days to come here. Two long, trying days attempting to piece together just what his brother had been up to, where the money had gone, why all the secrets. Now, standing in a lab which even he had never known existed before this moment, Donald was confronted with the knowledge that for all his searching he still had no answers.

Douglas had hidden his tracks well. Too well actually; there was no trail for which to lead any of this back to him. Its reputation ruined, the company had nearly gone bankrupt. Thankfully what little could be traced was being investigated now. They could search all they wanted; Donald had nothing to hide. Still, it would take years to rebuild Davenport Industries again.

It was another reminder of just how little he had known his brother, a wound which would probably never fully heal.

Donald hesitated before beginning to look around the room. The lab was in shambles; Douglas had always been one to leave things a mess. That, however wasn't the reason for his hesitation. Something just felt wrong. It had from the moment the news of his brother's death had reached him, only hours before the video letter arrived. 'Donnie's eyes only,' it read across the label. That tape was what led him here. For all it had said, there was one glaring omission; why…

A sound drew him from his thoughts. Donald blinked and looked around; humming and other sounds radiated from the various machines around him, but that wasn't what had stuck his ears. He had heard crying.

It took him a minute or so but soon Donald tracked the sound to a small overturned table near a wall. Moving it slightly he felt his eyes bulge. There, curled into a tight ball was a child who looked all of maybe four.

"Hey, little guy..." Donald bent down so he could be eye level with the kid. The boy buried his face further into the wires as if it would hide him from view. "It's okay. How-"

Suddenly the boy shrieked and pushed himself against the wall, his hands clasped over his ears. "Make it stop! Please, make it stop!"

Donald frowned. "Make what...?" His question was cut off by another scream by the boy, tears streaking his face. Donald's frown deepened. He leaned backwards slightly, listening. He scanned the room a moment. Realization caused his heart to plummet. "Do you mean that?"

The boy nodded weakly, sniffing as more tears came across his face.

_My God..._ "Come here." Reaching into the wires, Donald pulled out the boy carefully. "Look, it's the computer. See? Just the computer." He reached over to turn off the machine. His heart felt like lead. The sound was loud he had to admit, but not that loud.

_What is-_ A sharp pain suddenly radiated from his lower leg. "Ow!"

"Leave my brother alone!" A swift kick to his other leg followed, one which sent Donald falling to the floor. Partly from surprise, sure, yet mostly from the impossible yet currently true fact that a dark haired boy who looked no more than six just sent him nearly flying across the room.

"You okay C?" The smaller boy gave a nod. "Take him, B, I got this!"

"Wait-" A rush of wind flashed across the room. His eyes blurred from something indistinguishable. When the wind subsided the smaller boy was gone. "What was- hey!"

He barely dodged another swing from the dark-haired boy. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here-" Why was he here? To his relief the boy lowered his arms slightly. Donald's thoughts returned to the pods he had seen when he first came into the room. Three pods; small… small enough to fit a-

"Do you live here?" The words nearly choked his throat.

The boy's arms raised again. "Not s'possed to talk to strangers…"

"I'm not. I'm your- I'm Douglas's brother, Donald. He sent me here to check on you."

Another flash of wind came at him. Douglas shielded his eyes.

"B, I got this!" The boy's voice made him lower his arms. A little girl was standing beside the boy now. His gut dropped again. Wind… speed… things were clicking in his mind. His brother had been working on programs to be placed into robotic weapons, chips which when inserted would grant the specimen any sort of abilities. Abilities such as super fast response capabilities, insurmountable strength, and heightened…

His mouth – and heart – dropped. _My_ _God._

[-]

It had taken a good bit of convincing yet Donald finally managed to bring the trio into his car and to his home. As quickly and quietly as he could manage he brought them downstairs to the private lab he had built in the basement. It wasn't much yet for now it would work, until he could figure out a more permanent solution.

The three were sitting in the middle of the room, an almost empty pizza box between them. They had seemed puzzled when he had brought it down, the older boy making some comment about it not being "wheat grass and barley juice," and seemed hesitant to take even one bite of it.

"It's okay," he had told them. "Today is special so you get something special to eat."

"Why's it special?" the older boy had asked.

"Because- because you're here now."

This answer seemed to satisfy the boy, who went back to eating. Donald sighed and rubbed his face again. He had been over his options numerous times, running them through his mind in every conceivable way. The truth was, he was at a total and complete loss over just how to handle the current situation.

Originally his mind had gone to the simplest of solutions; he would drop the trio off at a facility anonymously. That thought had no sooner crossed his mind before logic vetoed it. Even having the very little data salvaged from Douglas's lab he had almost nothing concrete.

What he did know was they were human. He had run their fingerprints through the system, and all had come back clean. That he was thankful for at least; how sad that now he was thankful his brother hadn't kidnapped children for testing. The trio seemed not only not to belong anywhere, but not even to have names. He had asked repeatedly, yet only got the letters A, B and C. Had Douglas really only bothered labels for them?

God, Douglas; _why_? He had put bionic chips into children! Children! They had been testing robots, machines, not human beings. That, they had agreed, was much too risky… or so Donald believed until this moment.

He had seen firsthand a few of the capabilities Douglas had implanted yet knowing his brother Donald surmised those would be far from the only. Decoding all the programs would take time. More than that he doubted children their ages could fully grasp – let alone control – whatever had been programmed into their chips. Which of course meant he couldn't leave them alone. And if the authorities discovered their abilities, discovered what Douglas had done... it would mean more than the end of a company. All blame would land on Donald himself, meaning time in jail. Possibility - and how he hated to think it - the kids being shipped to someplace for testing... or worse. An over-dramatic scenario? God he hoped so, yet in his gut knew it probably wasn't that far out of possibility.

Thank God Douglas was gone now. That thought did hurt, yet it paled compared to the betrayal Donald felt now, and the pure fear in just what his brother had unknowingly been capable of all this time. Douglas had always been ambitious; too ambitious. How often Donald was left the one to reign in his brother's over-zealous nature, how many times made to collect what could be salvaged. How hard he had tried, time and time again, to save his baby brother from the ever-growing sense of empowerment. The signs had been there, yet - quite foolishly, Donald realized now - he believed them squelched. But this time… this time he had failed, and now it wasn't just Donald who was paying the price.

Why had Douglas left them? Why leave them in an obviously destroyed lab rather than take them wherever it had been he went? Where had they come from? What exactly had Douglas done to them? Most importantly, why? Whatever the purpose it couldn't be good.

So many questions, and so few answers.

The smaller boy had fallen asleep, slumped over. The other two were busy playing. They were young; too young. He could keep them here. It seemed they were used to this sort of environment. He had most of his brother's research. Donald felt the familiar big brother mode kicking in. Surely it wouldn't take long to remove whatever programming Douglas had engineered for them. Then he could relocate them to a new home, a better one. There was no way he was ready or capable of taking care of three children. Yes, he would keep them here, until they were safe, until he knew for sure the danger had passed.

Yet there was something else nagging at Donald. Something he couldn't quite put a finger on, but something very, very real in his gut. Douglas was smart. And cunning. There was a reason he had done what he did.

Another mess, he realized. Another thing he needed to clean up for his little brother. Picking up the pieces and trying to put together what he could; how well he knew the routine.

Insanity, his mind reminded him. Repeating the same action repeatedly while expecting a different result. The sentence had come from some book or lecture from his college days. As he cleaned up the trash Donald couldn't help but think whoever had written it forgot a part. Insanity was being an older sibling. The oldest took care of things. The oldest watched out and protected, cleaned messes, and put things in order. It was more than a job; it was his life. Whether he liked it or not it was the hand which Donald had been dealt.

Maybe he had failed. Or maybe it was unavoidable. Regardless, it didn't matter anymore. Right then and there, Donald Davenport was resolved on what to do.


End file.
